Gods Amongst Us
by Austare
Summary: An unlikely duo, an assassin and an outcast, find themselves swept into the violent maelstrom of the mage-templar war. Forced to uncover the truth behind the conflict while facing their past, Thedas cries for unity for a danger stirring within the deep roads slowly emerges unchecked. *Original, alternate storyline with canon appearances.*


Act I.

Chapter I

* * *

If a man could be judged on merits, the world would have been a much clearer place. Those who partook in good deeds would receive a boon while evil would be met with curses. Idealism had no place in reality. Adler should know. Money caused morality to vanquish, like fickle men making weighty decisions. It was funny how that was so. Offer a man a goblet of coin, and he would gladly take a life of an acquaintance, a friends, even someone he barely knew. It was all philosophy however, and Adler knew he wasn't paid to think. A death would be committed here today. Be it crime or work, that was up to the prospective one viewed it from.

For the better part of the day, Adler had spent his time carefully studying the target. The contract had been time sensitive, something that had to be done quickly. The Crows, one of the most feared groups in Thedas, was his organization. They had received the mark and passed it onto him. The contractor wanted the best; they've paid and here he was. Other than his dull task of observing, pickpockets ran amuck in this place. He had a run in with one, a youth barely old enough to take a razor to beard. Thinking back on it, perhaps he should've imparted a more permanent lesson. Perhaps a finger or two?

Nodding to a pair of Templars, Adler squinted from the sun's reflection off their shiny armored plates. How could they move in those things? Here he was in his loose olive green garbs given to him after his initiation. The fabric allowed him to move quickly, lightly, and softly. Those metal coffins would not do at all. Not at all.

The pair walked through the dusty, hot day. If Adler had not kept to the shadows—nor don the lengthy garments he wore—he probably would have turned a darker shade by days end. Like many of those that strolled these streets, fabric wrapped around his mouth. By now, it'd probably be caked with particles of sand floating amongst the air.

Adler stifled a cough as he fingered the pommel of one of his blades. Methods of death ran through his head as a man approached him. Dressed in commoner's fatigues, he looked around conspicuously as he leaned against the wall. "Cocky little shit aren't you?" the man said. It was Adler's handler. He tapped his wrist. "The deadline's tonight, in case you had forgotten. Others would have the job completed days in advance. Cold feet?"

Adler let out a sigh. He felt his hand squeeze on the blade's pommel. The subtle act was not unnoticed by the handler. "Not every act within our fold is ever the same."

A silence lingered. The man cleared his throat. "You know what happens when a contract is not met to the letter. The repercussions are severe. You should know better than most. You were once on the … giving end. Amaranthine if I recall. Clean, not messy. Quiet, not—"

"Was there something important? You're wasting your breath—and my time."

The man was quiet. His breathing was forced as his chest inflated than depressed. "A reminder." The man moved to leave. "The job's just too big for a screw up. Not here Adler. This won't be as forgiving as most other contracts."

"Understood."

"I hope you do."

—

Adler walked the streets of Lowtown. He had prepared everything in the past week,. He could taste the success even before it happened. It was a good feeling. Contrary to what his handler thought, everything was as it should be. Heartbeat beating steady, the assassin walked through the street with a subtle jolt. He clenched and unclenched his hand. Everything was ready.

He rounded the bend as he pushed back his brown hair. A whore was on the corner, cooing men as they walked by. Dressed in her flithy—yet revealing—clothing it was no wonder many disappeared so often. He heard her call out to him, purr about his cyan colored eyes, which she called 'exotically seductive'. Death was preferably to sleeping with these things. No doubt diseases ran rampant amongst them. The incurable kind that infected their partners. On occasion, he had wondered how it would be to bed with one, but thought better of it. He may as well try his luck at the Blooming Rose. Love wasn't allowed in his profession, but an occasional rump wasn't disallowed. A good thing he supposed. It helped keep the Crows from getting to feisty.

His eyes locked onto a face he remembered quite well. How could he not? He spent so long memorizing the sketch that was provided. A terrible rendition, but the artist served its purpose. The target in question was a Knight-Templar Carver. The strong angular face was at least spot on. Young too. Terrible that he was marked.

It was curious that any would want a Templar dead. Were they not the safeguard against magic? Kirkwall was in terrible times, for rumors circulated about the madness of the Knight-Commander. Adler had the pleasure of shadowing her, and he wasn't too opposed to accepting the rumor. It wasn't new that the Mage-Templar relationship was strained; paranoid was what he'd label the older woman as. Her people held an absurd amount of power. One that he saw abused far too often. Thus the sin of military leadership. The Qunari had already seen to the death of the Viscount, and no way would the Chantry allow the Circle to take provisional government.

This Carver had proceeded into a Templar compound. It was crumbling sack of clay that had seen better days. Small craters could be seen from the destruction left behind during the Qunari's retaliation. The walls wind whittled. By the maker, the whole entire city was still scared by that. Through this though, Adler saw opportunity. There were many openings that were big enough for him to slip through, but too cramped for that armor the fools proudly wore. _Consequence of negligence. _

His feet swept against the sand as he focused on the target. He drew ever nearer as their voices carried in the wind. He never understood the need to shout when one was close to who he spoke to. Silence was life's music.

"Report," said Carver as Adler watched in silence. He blended in with a few dockhands who gave him a curious look then looked away, oblivious to his intent. "The Knight-Commander wanted ordered a change of guard."

"Lowtown is as dull as always," said the Templar who stood at attention, unseen eyes glancing with suspicion. "Some of the damned gangs harass some citizens here and there. Mages were reported near the Bazaar. Several brothers were dispatched to 'gently' lead them back to where they belong. Change of the guard you say?"

Carver handed over an envelope. "Some changes were made. Slightly longer break for each new shift. Knight-Commander thought it'd help. Alert is better than not, right?"

How interesting Adler thought to himself. If only this new directive had been put in days ago, Adler would've have had am easier time of it. Not that it mattered. A challenge was what thrilled him. Give him a hard case; he'd find a way to make it work.

He had heard enough as he left his perch. The way into the building wasn't too difficult. There were denizens going in and out. Must have been for complaint and whatnot. All that needed to be done was move with the crowd, act like one, find the Templar, then kill him—subtly if he could.

Proffering a smile to the woman walking beside him, he noticed a very faint blush. He grinned devilishly within as he kept up his facade. "Good day, serrah. Problems?"

"Who doesn't?" said the woman still a little flustered. "I came a few days ago to report to the guard. Theft, you understand. All the dumb brute told me was, 'we'll look into it'. Normally that's fine, but you'd expect him to take details. Instead? Of all the nerve, he told me to bugger off! I had half a mind not to knock him on the side."

Adler had to stop himself from scoffing. _Self centered woman. Everyone has problems. Yours pales in comparison to most. Was your daughter kidnapped? Was a loved one sold into slavery? Did I man try to force himself upon you last night? How trivial. _

"All manners of crime have seen to skyrocket. Have you tried other outposts? Perhaps Hightown?"

"Hightown?" The woman's chest heaved with laughter as others turned around to stare briefly. "Please, the humor these days. No, they'd throw me out as soon as I stepped in. Do I seem like the Hightown type to you? All those nobles, swimming in gold. I bet they have a laugh about us. Sitting in those comfy mansions … by the maker I hope they drown in their wealth."

Adler couldn't resist a grin as they were within the makeshift atrium. There were guards standing at each corner, guardsmen and templars alike. Near the middle were two very large oak tables. A guardsman attended to each while more kept a careful eye. The target, Adler had noted, stood by the flight of stairs. He made note of that as he tried to listen in. Luckily, the line shuffled forward, and so did he.

"Do we have any guards to spare?" asked Carver. There was another knight by him as he questioned a city guard. "More are required to keep this section in check. The underground has become more active as of late."

"Ah, yes, wait here while I pull more out of my arse." The guard spat on the ground as his baby face shimmered with fresh sweat. Another reason to not wear _that _armor in this heat. "There's simply no one else to spare."

The templar stepped in close. From his distance, Adler could see those brown eyes glare into the guards as the brute of a man stared down upon what the templar considered his inferior.

"Do you know how many blood magic incidents were reported this week?"

"Enough to not ask."

"Thirty," said Carver as he stepped back, disgust shining through his words. "Each took a handful of victims to be fed to their demonic rituals. Have you seen the rituals? The very blood within your veins boil, as it's sucked out. Your body is not your own. As you wither on the ground, while the mage consumes what's rightfully yours, you can feel them prickle at within your skin. The body can only withstand so much before turning into an abomination. If you cannot find more guards, more will die. The guard will hold responsibility; you don't want that."

The guard shifted his stance while the templar's gaze remained on him. He rested his hand on the pommel of his warm blade, which basked within the sun's glory. "I sympathize. I do. The fact of the matter, however, is not in your favor. We. Have. No one, templar. Unless you wish to conscript, a shame if you do, then what you have is all you got. I'd make use of that."

Adler could hear no more as the raucous of the crowd had increased. The tables before him ignited with angered shouts as guards began to move in. He turned back to the woman as a frown creased her tired face. It confounded him how so many could create such noise and disorder. Everything, through the lens of black and white, was easy. Coming to terms with what must be done was all that was needed. A leap of faith. That's all there was to it.

"I do hope you luck on the theft," he said to the woman. "So much chaos, a shame really."

He exchanged goodbyes with the woman as he made his way towards the side. The place was crowded. Angered faces of the citizenry shouted their concerns. This was a picture perfect moment of a mob. If there was a way to capture this scene, Adler would have loved to know of it. It'd be something like a memo. Whenever possible, he liked to keep records of what he'd seen on his travels. The memory itself could be the master of lies. Believing in a falsity could turn into truth while the truth could be forgotten when it brought inconvenience.

Scanning the second floor, he saw the target disappear into a room. He must have ascended the stairs when Adler wasn't looking. Locking onto his destination, he walked towards the stairs. He deftly snuck an order form from the nearest table.

"Not another step!" A pair of Templars who stood at the bottom of the steps barred his way. Adler's heart began to race. The thrill was intoxicating. "Only those with official business beyond this point. Glance from you says you're a low life."

"T'at's ro'ight," said the other Templar. The accent was strong. Orlesian? "I su'gest you step back."

Adler held up his hand as he mentioned to the order document he held in his hand. "I come from the Keep. The document is for the eyes of Knight-Templar Carver."

The two looked at each other. "Knight-Captain did mention a courier…"

"Didn't the last shift already bring in orders?"

The Templar who had dominated the pair thus far held out his hand, "We'll need to see it."

"I can't do that. My orders were clear." Adler had decided to play along for now. Worst comes to worst, he'd find another way. "Another patrol was suppose to deliver them, but there weren't enough hands to spare. If you decide that my reasons are illegitimate, I'll kindly let the Captain know. His anger will be on you. Do you really want that?"

The silence answered for them.

"…Quickly then. Left wing, third door."

"Thank you messere," Adler said as he walked passed them. He sighed in relief. Everything was working so far. Improvisation was always fun. He passed a few other guards as he soon came before the door that he saw his target enter. The Templar downstairs hadn't lied either. He knocked then opened the door. "Knight-Templar Carver?"

He saw the Templar leaning over his desk inspecting some documents. A head tilted up with a mixture of surprise and caution. "Who're you?"

"A messenger," Adler said. It was a truth of sorts, vague and open to many interpretations. "Another directive from the Knight-Captain."

Carver held out his hand as he appeared in front of Adler. "I wasn't aware of any deliveries? Well, lets have a look then."

Adler gave him the order as he placed a hand on his hip. Nearly time. His target began to read the contents as he turned.

_Perfect._

"What is this?" Carver asked, his voice rising steadely. "This isn't from the Captain. It's a shipping manife—"

His words were cut short as a surprised gasp, muffled by strong, calloused hands, sealed the Templar's mouth shut. Adler seized on the opening as his blade slid between the iron plates and into the soft battledress underneath. He went for the sweet spot. A clean insertion into the kidney. He twisted his blade up as he felt his target spasm in his grip. His muscles strained as Carver tried to struggle, his cry had turned into a growl, as if he had turned into one of those animals stuck in a cage that desperately sought freedom. Soon enough, the struggle faded.

"Nothing personal. You were just another contract." Adler slowly lowered the Templar to the ground. His muscles bulged and rippled from the sheer weight. There was a slight scuffle as the metal hit the stone flooring but nothing to cause alarm. He removed his hand when he was sure the man was too weak to cry for help. Adler had not been merciful "…You'll be dead in minutes."

Dark, brown eyes stared at him with unmasked hatred—there was something as well. Regret? Remorse? Adler was never really good with things like that. Why should it matter to him? Things that he couldn't feel nor understand he simply disregarded without second thought. Many nights he had spent thinking about why this was the case. Death was a terrible thing—from what he had heard from others. Why then did he feel nothing except the sensation of exaltation?

"…What have you…done?"

He shrugged. "You were marked; I the tool."

A grimace appeared on the warrior's face. There was understanding, but also stubbornness that tried to resist the jealous embrace of death. "Coward … may you burn …" Carver's breathing became shallower as his eyes began to flutter close, a beautiful act of the promise of death. "The city … "

"Will burn. As did the plains of Fereldan."

"No … we're trying to save it…"

"Are you?" The words rolled out before Adler could stop himself. They were words that needed to be spoken, especially to this victim. "A stroll through the gallows paints a different story. Enslavement and rebellion go hand-in-hand. Your city will burn templar. Every last bit of it."

Adler got to his feet and took Carver's order ring. Proof of the done deed. "Just another mark," he said to the corpse as life left those deep brown eyes. "Nothing personal."

* * *

**Hello all and welcome to my first fanfic. Being a novice to writing, I thought it'd be fun to start out small and try my hand at a fanfic of one my favorite game titles to date. Any comments or suggestions are welcomed, for I want to deliver a great original story within the Dragon Age universe not only for myself, but for whomever would like to share this journey with me. **

**Anyways, I'll leave it at that. The second chapter is already in the works, and I'm hoping to have it up soon. Thanks for reading, and I'll try not to make these author remarks a habit.**

**Your fellow writer-to-be,**

**Austare**


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